


The Poet Laureate

by writingonpostcards



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, M/M, Pre-Relationship, The West Wing AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:10:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: William pulls at the tie he’s got on. Deep green, with minimal black checkering. “It this tie alright? Does it match the suit?”Eric walks to his desk and leans back against it, crossing his arms. “What’s going on, William. Where are you going?”“Meeting with the poet laureate about the dinner, and I—”“Want to look good,” Eric interjects. A statement, not a question.Dex/Nursey AU based on The West Wing episode “The U.S Poet Laureate”. No knowledge of politics or the show is needed to enjoy this fic.





	

“William!” Larissa shouts down the corridor.

William looks up from Justin’s notes on the new energy plan. “Yeah?”

“I need a favour.”  Larissa falls into step beside William, following him back to the communications bullpen. “I just got an email from Derek Nurse saying he’s going to pull out of the dinner unless he gets a chance to chastise the President about backing out of signing the landmine ban. Would you mind asking Chris to talk to him?

“Why Chris?”

“He’s the landmine expert.”

“I can do it,” William offers. He’s been an admirer of Nurse’s poetry for years, and when he was announced as this year’s poet laureate, managed to feel proud for a man he doesn’t know personally.

Even though Nurse’s poems are far outside what William does as speechwriter, he appreciates the brilliance in his poetry. He’s always found himself connecting to Nurse’s poems far more than any other contemporary American writer.

Larissa stops walking. She turns to look at William. “Do you know anything about landmines?”

“Enough.” William tries to look professional and not like a school boy with a crush. Larissa sees right through it.

“William Pointdexter,” she says with emphasis. “Is there a chance that you’re a little smitten?"

William doesn’t say anything, but he’s finding it impossible to stop his skin from heating. His pale skin must be flushing red to show that, because Larissa smiles broadly at him, and clasps him on the arm. She laughs and shakes her head, but William knows it means he has the go ahead to speak to Nurse instead of Chris.

-

William stops on his way to the lobby to knock on Eric’s door. Eric is leaning behind his desk, looking at the computer screen over Tony’s shoulder.

“Eric.”

Eric and Tony look up to William. After one look at his expression, Eric shoos Tony out of his chair and out the door, following him so he can shut the door behind Tony.

Once Eric turns back around, William asks, “Does this tie look okay?”

Eric blinks at him. “What?”

William pulls at the tie he’s got on. Deep green, with minimal black checkering. “It this tie alright? Does it match the suit?”

Eric walks to his desk and leans back against it, crossing his arms.

“What’s going on, William. Where are you going?”

“Meeting with the poet laureate about the dinner, and I—”

“Want to look good,” Eric interjects. A statement, not a question. “I thought Chris was speaking with him.”

“Larissa asked me.”

“Did she ask you, or did you ask her?” Eric half-teases—a display of clarity that reaffirms to William why Eric is Deputy Chief of Staff. William feels himself flushing again. At least he’s getting it all out now and it won’t come back to haunt him later when he actually meets Derek Nurse. Hopefully.

Williams shrugs and flattens the tie back against his chest. Eric gives him a once-over, and William knows he’s going to get an honest and fashionably accurate opinion.

“It works fine. You look nice.” Coming from Eric, is really means something.

“Thanks,” William says gratefully, tucking the tie in properly and heading to the lobby.

-

Derek Nurse is sitting on a lounge, dressed in a simple suit, no tie, and reading a book. William takes a deep breath, makes sure his jacket is buttoned up right, then heads over.

“Derek Nurse?”

Nurse looks up from his books, and William immediately notices how green his eyes are. Nurse smiles and puts his book into a briefcase. He stands up and offers a hand.

“William Pointdexter.” William shakes Nurse’s hand twice before dropping it. “Senior Communications Officer.”

“Yes, I read the transcript of the State of the Union. Really compelling writing.”

“You... read it?” Williams asks with some confusion. “It’s more of a verbal oriented text.”

“Listened to it after, but I like seeing the words by themselves first.”

William nods, finding the information interesting and filing the titbit away.

“Follow me to my office?” Williams asks, already heading off because his cheeks are feeling warm again, and he doesn’t want Nurse to see.

William leads Nurse directly into his office and shuts the door behind them.

“The President needs to sign the landmine ban,” Nursey says immediately. He’s not even sitting down yet.

William can’t help it. He laughs. Nurse raises his eyebrows at him.

“Cutting right to the chase.” William clears his throat and tries not to let on how attractive he finds that.

“It’s why we’re here, yes?” Nurse asks, with something of a cutting tone to his voice, far different from the joviality he was using in the lobby.

William, having hoped for more idle chatter and a chance to discuss Nurse’s work before reaching this topic, simply leans on his desk and sighs.

“Alright.” He rubs at his forehead. “The President isn’t going to sign the ban, and you can’t ask him to at the dinner.”

“Then I’m sorry you’ve gone through all the trouble of organising it.”

Larissa is not going to be impressed if this is where the conversation ends.

“You’re not coming?” William asks incredulously, to confirm that it is Nurse’s actual intention, and not a bluff.

“Not unless the President signs the ban.”

William sighs out again, and thinks about where to begin explaining the various levels of reasoning, discussion, and planning across multiple state and federal departments that have informed the President’s decision not to sign. Nurse beats him to it.

“William, I’m honoured the White House is hosting this dinner for me. I have an opportunity that most don’t, and I’m going to use it.”

William has to give Nurse credit for his gumption, but it’s leaning too close to pigheadedness for him. It’s early morning. William was hoping this would be a nice break from all the other meetings he has today.

“You know why America won’t sign the treaty?” William asks like a lecturer to a disruptive student.

“North Korea,” Nurse answers immediately. Good. At least he’s informed himself on the issue, and wasn’t going to go to the President blind. Not that he would be getting that opportunity anyway.

“Yeah, North Korea.” William repeats with emphasis. “The only thing stopping their army marching into South Korea is our military and a border of _landmines_. We’ve asked to sign the ban at the exclusion of this area, and we’ve been rebuffed. Multiple times." William's voice gets louder as he pushes on. "And I’m sure you know this, but America were the ones who shepherded this agreement through international government. We’ve led the charge. You cannot ask the President to sign at the dinner.”

Nurse stares coolly at William, unimpressed by his outburst. “Then I’m sorry that you have to cancel the dinner.”

Nurse stands himself up and leaves William’s office.

-

“Did I see our poet laureate storming his way out the lobby just now?” Larissa asks, sticking her head into William’s office.

“I know,” William tries to stop the oncoming lecture.

“He can’t bring up the landmines at the dinner,” Larissa reminds him.

“I know. I’ve got his hotel info. I’m trying again this afternoon.”

“Good.”

-

“Are you guys keeping tabs on me?” Nurse asks when William meets him out the front of his hotel.

“Just when you’re in Washington,” William jokes, hoping to start this conversation off on a better foot.

“Well, that’s alright then.” Nurse says with some sarcasm, before continuing in a similar tone. “So, let me guess. You’re here to tell me to come to the dinner, and shut my mouth.”

“No,” William counters, not feeling like letting Nurse have the upper hand in their second turn at this discussion. “I’m here to tell you to come to the dinner, wear a nice suit, and shut your mouth.” William is aware he’s toeing the line between flirt and conversation. Hopefully in a subtle (but unmissable) way.

“Huh,” Nurse exclaims, and then smiles at William, pushing his beanie around on his forehead.

That mood only lasts about another two blocks before William’s voice is raised as he tackles another well-meaning, and not disagreeable criticism from Nurse.

“You don’t get it, Derek. You can’t. You don’t understand how it's going to play out.”

“Then explain,” Nurse demands. “I’m not stupid.”

“Fine.” William stops walking and shoves his hands into his coat pockets. He sometimes gets a bit aggressive with gesticulating and he wants to avoid that right now  like he hadn't this morning in his office.

“If you talk to the President, that’s the story.” William pauses, letting the message sink in. “It’s not about the landmines, it’s ‘Derek Nurse argues with the President at a dinner in his honour’. You see? No-one cares about landmines, you don’t make him sign the ban. You just look like a dick.”

Nurse flinches and William worries that he’s gone too far.

“Look,” he adds belatedly. “Just... it’s what the media is going to spin it as.”

Nurse holds a hand up, stopping anything else that William might have thought to say.

“Can you not talk? For a minute.”

“Do you get what I’m saying?” William has already failed once, he needs the clarification for Larissa’s sake and sanity. And his own.

“I said,” Nurse stresses, “stop talking.”

The hand is still up in the air between them. That’s the hand that writes his poetry, William thinks instead of speaking.

“I’m meant to be—And you’re—” Nursey takes a few steps away and then turns back to William, addressing him from this new distance. “I’m leaving. I just need...” he trails off, shaking his head.

William watches Nurse walk away, not quite sure what he’s going to be telling Larissa when he gets back to the office.

-

“Tie didn’t work?” Eric asks, falling in to step beside William as he stomps past the Chief of Staff office on the way to his own.

“Not unless by ‘work’ you mean ‘Derek is still refusing to attend the dinner’.”

“Not exactly what I meant, nope,” Eric says, with a hugely unsubtle nudge to William’s side.

William rolls his eyes. Eric is the only member of the White House staff to whom William ever admitted liking Nurse’s poetry after he got announced as the laureate. William had been tipsy and very sleep deprived at the time, and he might have let slip other things he liked about Nurse. Eric likes to remind William of the fact often.

“Try blue next time. It’ll go better with your eyes.”

Eric leaves him at his office and heads in to see Chris next door. William flips the bird to the wall separating their offices once Eric is out of sight, and then flops over the armrest and onto his well-loved couch, figuring out how to phrase ‘Derek won’t do the dinner’ to Larissa in a way that won’t end with his balls chopped off.

-

The call that evening is unexpected, but William rushes to the university campus as soon as he gets it anyway.

“William Pointdexter?” The woman in the foyer asks him.

“Yes, yeah. That’s me.” William is puffed from jogging from the cab to the lecture theatre. “What happened?”

A younger woman—a student, William assumes—answers his question. “He was halfway through the lecture when he just stopped. Like he’d realised he’d left his oven on.”

William nods at the analogy. Poetry students.

“He’s outside on the steps,” the older woman offers, obviously sensing William’s urgency.

William nods and heads off to the open doors before remembering what Larissa said he needed to ask.

“Hey, sorry.” The two women turn to look at him. “Were there any press here tonight?”

The older woman raises her eyebrows. “At a poetry lecture?”

“Right.” William nods again, then walks briskly outside.

Nurse is sitting on concrete steps leading down to a lamppost lined walkway. His legs are bunched up, arms wrapping around them. He doesn’t look shaken, but then again, William doesn’t know him all that well yet. Maybe he’s internalising.

William sits down next to him, worried Nurse must be feeling the cold, wearing only a thin shirt and no jacket. He’d offer his own if he didn’t think it would raise issues (no matter how many times Eric informs him it won’t).

William still isn’t sure what happened and why he was called in. Nurse must know other people in the area—artists always seem to have networks that defy state and country. Nonetheless, Nurse asked for William after he walked out of his lecture.

“Hi,” William says for lack of inspiration, the silence having gotten to him.

Nurse doesn’t acknowledge him. William doesn’t think so at least, but half a minute later he’s talking.

“I went fishing with a mother and her son. The boy hooked something big, heavy—his mum was so excited for him. He pulled out a landmine and we watched him explode in front of us.”

Nurse stares out into the night and visibly shivers. William abandons his previous notions of professionalism and takes his scarf off to wrap around Nurse’s bare neck.

Nurse pulls it tight gratefully, and buries his fingers in it.

“Maybe if I could just tell the President that, share where I was coming from.” Nurse looks to William for the first time that night, and he can tell his eyes are watery with emotion. “I’d just need two minutes alone, that’s all. I wouldn’t tell anyone what it was about.”

William looks into Nurse’s eyes, sees the hope there, the optimism that William often feels is being slowly trodden out from his own.

William has to turn away eventually. He sighs out, preparing himself to speak. Nurse gets there first. Again. William is coming to be thankful Nurse has the careful emotional perception of an artist. He’s saving William a lot of struggling to find the words. Writing, and re-writing them is one thing. Speaking them off the cuff is another.

“Alright,” Nurse says softly, accepting. “Alright.”

William waits in the silence for Nurse to leave again. He doesn’t. It’s enough that William really moves past professionalism to ask the question he’s been holding inside for almost an hour.

“Why call me?” Nurse turns to him. His eyes are dry now, but still shine in the moonlight. “Why ask them to call me?”

Nurse moves his fingers over William’s scarf. “I already knew, really, that I wasn’t going to be able to share the story with the President, and I just thought...” Nurse shakes his head. “I felt you’d be a good person to tell it to.”

William feels his insides swell at the admission. “I’m glad you did.”

Nurse looks over at him and smiles, and William returns it. Nurse holds his gaze for longer than necessary before standing up. It’s enough to make William think on being optimistic for once.

“Will you be at the dinner?” Nurse asks.

“Of course.” William stands up as well, bringing them eye to eye.

“Good. I’ve got sixty-four couplets on American life to read.”

“I know.” William has read them already.

“And I’d like to spend some time with you after, if that’s possible.” Nurse cocks his head.

Williams carefully clears his throat before he speaks. “I think that’s possible.”

Nurse smiles again. He unwinds the scarf from around his neck, and loops it back around William’s, stepping in close.

“Thanks for the scarf, Will,” Nurse says, then disappears back into the building, leaving William staring after him, with a hopeful feeling for next week’s dinner, and a scarf smelling faintly of Derek Nurse.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also posted to [tumblr](http://17piesinseptember.tumblr.com/post/159280188676/dexnursey-au-based-on-the-west-wing-episode-the)


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